


We With Proper Taste

by frasa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frasa/pseuds/frasa
Summary: Harry's fate changes when he's 8.A WIP, not beta-read or spell-checked. I'm not a native speaker. If you notice mistakes pls pm me. Any offer of beta-reading is appreciated.





	We With Proper Taste

A quiet little park in a quiet little town in North Surrey. A small playground is deserted due to the late hour. Only two people are there, one of them not aware of the other - a thin man standing in shadows and an equally thin boy rummaging through rubbish bins.

The man watches the boy silently with a thoughtful expression on his face. The boy is entirely engrossed in his exploration, sometimes shoving a thing or two into a plastic bag hanging from his shoulder.

Everything is quiet, perhaps too quiet - a stranger wandering from the streets would find it unnerving. But no one should be wandering here past the wards, no one - except the little boy who ignored the magic entirely when all muggles hurried from the park as soon as the wards were cast.

The man keeps watching. He has a brief thought of leaving - this town is nothing special, he can choose another location next month, he explicitly chose it for its unremarkable appearance, for its forgetfulness. However, this here is clearly a magical child - a homeless beggar by appearance - and an opportunity to further his stand with magical people of England. He wonders idly if it’s fate, this convenient find.

He watches as the child unearths a half-eaten snack of some sort and looks at it with apparent hunger. It’s the turning moment - he knows he can work with a hunger like that. 

He will take the boy.

***

Harry is busy going through his fourth bin when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He quickly spins around, his back to the bin, shoving the bag behind him. He doesn’t know if it’s a policeman, or a concerned adult, or even a homeless Dave from two streets down - he’s in trouble either way. He only hopes it’s someone too slow or drunk so he can run away to the thick bushes in the back.

He makes a move but his arm is instantly caught in a vice-like grip. Looking up, he sees a tall figure looming over, the image blurred due to his panic and poor sight. Harry thinks of squirming, biting, anything, but he’s suddenly frozen in the spot when the figure moves closer and puts a hand against his cheek. This is so unexpected - the hand is gentle and warm, no - hot. No one touched him like this as long as he can remember (he can’t even pretend that Aunt Petunia’s shoves are her way of showing care. And Dudley - well). 

“Hello, little wizard”, says the figure in a calm voice. Now that he’s close Harry can tell that he’s a man - a very tall and thin man in some weird clothes and with a weird accent.

The hold on his arm softens when it’s obvious that Harry’s not running. He’s still thinking of it, sure, but now he’s too curious (and reluctant to part with the touch). The man is clearly crazy, judging by his words, or maybe he’s just a freak, like Harry. _Like Harry_. 

“Hello, sir”, Harry knows better than to betray his curiosity or wariness to this stranger - even though he wants to. Sometimes people say things they don’t mean. Well, people say things they don’t mean _all the time_ , honestly - Harry learned his lesson in his first weeks in primary. Whatever crazy thing they say - it’s his job to stay polite and keep his secrets.

The man hums, still not taking his hand from Harry’s cheek, starting to _rub his thumb against it_ , and Harry suddenly remembers an awkward talk with their school counselor. He didn’t understand some of it, and Ms. Brown was stuttering a lot, but he learned that he had to run from strange men touching him, or offering him sweets, or inviting him into a car. Apparently, those men could take a kid away and do something awful. She also said to tell a family member or a policeman but Harry dismissed the thought entirely - Aunt Petunia would probably give him away to any strange man that offered, and a policeman would take him to an orphanage or even to jail - Harry wasn’t certain, Uncle Vernon had threatened him with both.

“Erm, do you have a sweet or a car nearby, sir?” It’s better to make sure.

The man looks taken aback for a second. He even takes his hand away. “I do not have a muggle vehicle or a… sweet with me right at this moment. However, I was going to offer you a meal, child”.

Well, Harry hasn’t understood all of that but the last bit is pretty clear. “You mean, food?” His voice probably sounds too hopeful but he can’t pretend that he doesn’t care.

“Yes, food. I couldn’t help but notice that you’re hunting for nourishment in muggle garbage”, the man points to the bins with a grimace. Harry almost makes a face in return - yeah, he doesn’t like it too but what else can he do? All properness fades away pretty quickly when you often go without breakfast or dinner, or any food, really. 

Still… “That’s very kind of you, sir”, Harry knows how to answer to this sort of offers. Aunt Petunia will be furious if someone fed him on the side and then told the neighbors. “But I’m perfectly fine. I was just playing with the… uh… the things. You know how we boys are”, he smiles his best innocent smile but just at that moment his stomach growls loudly.

“Hmm, I see”, says the man dryly. “I do know how you boys are, so a sandwich won’t spoil your appetite, I’d wager”, with those words he reaches into a bag that Harry just noticed and pulls out a paper bag stained with grease. He pulls out a sandwich with something green and red peeking from the sides and hands it over. Harry just helplessly takes it - he’s no saint! - and immediately tucks in.

When he surfaces - the sandwich had smoked meat in it, with tomatoes, and cheese, and pickles, and some tasty sauce which Harry hasn’t tried before - he sees that the man is sitting on a nearby bench, neatly eating his own sandwich. Harry sheepishly sidles close and sits down too, not certain how to behave.

Well, he knows one thing. “Thank you, sir”, he says politely and with sincere enthusiasm. “That was the tastiest thing ever!”

The man smiles a thin smile and offers a bottle of water. Harry beams back and takes the water without question. The bottle is heavier than he expected - glass, not plastic - and it has a neat glass stopper on a chain too! Harry drinks deeply, suddenly feeling exhausted from his long day of studying, hiding and rutting through garbage.

“Are you sufficiently fed, child?”

Well, he can inhale a sandwich or two more but he’s certainly feeling better than an hour ago. “Yes, thank you, sir”, he smiles at the man again, feeling less wary after eating.

The man narrows his eyes like he can tell that Harry’s not entirely truthful but he doesn’t push. “What is your name and how did you find yourself on the streets?”

“I’m Harry”, Harry says with a puzzled frown. “And I’m not on the streets. I mean, I am outside now, but I have a home. I’m not a homeless _freak_!” He knows those homeless freaks are even worse than him, he at least has a home!

“I didn’t mean it as an insult, child”, the man says calmly with an odd light in his eyes. “Are you telling me that you are living with wizards and yet, you are going through muggle trash for food?”

“I don’t… er…Well, I’m sometimes hungry, like a _normal_ boy”, Harry lowers his eyes. He can’t really deny that he was looking for food, not after he scarfed that sandwich like a dog. But the other part of the question - _of course_ he’s not living with wizards! “And of course I’m not living with wizards!” Harry laughs out loud and makes a face at the man to let him know he’s being weird. “Wizards are not real, sir! I live with a _normal_ family!”

The man looks at him with those glinting eyes that are pretty scary, really. But he still talks in a calm voice. “I… see. Nice to meet you, Harry. I am Robert Brown, but I’m usually addressed as Mr. B.”

“Mr. Bee? Like an insect?” Harry giggles.

“Rather, like a letter B”, the man - Mr. B. - smiles at him.

Harry remembers his manners. “Nice to meet you, Mr. B.”, he says politely. The man bows his head and Harry bows in return, feeling a bit silly.

“Harry, would you like to come live with me?” Mr. B. asks next calmly.

Harry looks up at him with wide eyes, stunned.


End file.
